


Siren's Call

by Ensignabby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ensignabby/pseuds/Ensignabby
Summary: Dean Winchester finds himself in Washington State hunting a mysterious Siren who's drowning people in their beds. Help comes in form of the irresistible Hannah, but can Dean stay focused and solve the mystery before it's too late?





	Siren's Call

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story as a birthday present to my best friend. I used her as the inspiration for Hannah, happy ending and all :) Enjoy!

_Damn it all to hell_ , thought Dean Winchester. His favorite shirt was soaked with sulfuric water stank (which, he noted with annoyance, was dripping into the cracks of Baby’s front seat. Just _peachy_ ), and the weather outside was just below freezing. Damn this entire state to hell. He always _hated_ taking jobs up here.

As it was, he was short of any leads for this case. For the better part of an afternoon he had been chasing EMF signatures around a housing development and getting nowhere when out of the blue (literally, a frickin’ _blue_ light), a watery specter appeared and passed right through him, dousing him in the process. Just as soon as he was able to clear his airways and turn around to confront thing, it had disappeared.

One of Dean’s many burner cells rang a familiar ringtone. Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin. Cas.

Accept Call.

“Hit me with it, Cas.”

The all-too-familiar gravelly voice of his personal angel replied from the speaker phone. “Sam and I have looked through all the books in the bunker, but there doesn’t seem to be any mention of a water specter like what you’re describing.”

Dean scoffed. “Well then keep looking.  There has to be something somewhere.”

There was a shuffling on the other end and Sam’s voice echoed through the Impala’s cabin. “Uh, Dean? Are you _sure_ that you saw… _a mermaid?_ ”

“Hey, I know what I saw, Sammy.”

“But you’re describing something that sounds like Ariel instead of an actual Siren. And you’re miles from any major body of water.”

Dean thought a moment, pausing the conversation to turn left into some Podunk town. _Oh great_ , he thought, observing the artificial Amsterdam-style gables on all the storefronts. _What are the odds of finding a decent cheeseburger in this town?_ He sighed and returned to Sam’s concerns. “Well, look, I don’t know about the whole body of water thing, but this mermaid looked like it came straight out of a Disney movie, all right? Seashell bra and everything. It would look downright friendly if I didn’t know for a fact that it’s behind all those people drowning in their own beds.”

“Wait a second…” Sam said. “It just occurred to me.”

“What?”

“So, I was only checking satellite images when I said there weren’t any bodies of water nearby. Maybe… there is one? But it’s just underground, like an underground river? Or an aquifer?”

“That might be worth looking into. Who would I need to talk to to get information like that?”

“Give me a second, and I’ll look it up online here…” Sam’s voice wandered off, presumably following Sam to the nearest laptop.

“I guess I’ll just grab something to eat the… oh, come on!” Dean jammed on the Impala’s brakes when a car suddenly pulled out of a downtown parking space and blocked him. He gripped his hands tight on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to lean his head out of the window and shout an obscenity coupled with a well-placed hand gesture, when the sign on the nearest storefront caught his eye.

_Pacific Water Treatment and Solutions_

Something sparked in Dean’s mind and he grabbed at the cell phone. “You know what, Sammy. I think I may have found someone who can help in that area.” He promptly hung up before being able to hear Sam’s exclamation of protest and pulled into the now vacated parking spot.

Dean stepped up onto the sidewalk and shouldered his way through a group of elderly tourists. In the midst of all of the cutsie bakeries and antique shops lining the main street, this storefront appeared nondescript, without any flashy advertisements in the window. Inside, it was even quieter. Water coolers lined the outer walls, leaving a pretty empty showcase floor. His initial sweep of the room told him there wasn’t anybody in the room, but… no… when he looked again, he noticed a desk shoved into the back corner of the room, partially hidden behind an endcap display. A blonde woman was absorbed in a task on her laptop, an earbud in one ear blasting music.

He approached her desk. “Um, hi, I was hoping you could help me?”

She startled and pulled the bud out of her ear. “Hello, how can I help…” She finally looked up from her laptop and her startling blue eyes widened. “H-how can I help you?”

He flashed one of his trademark smiles at her. “I was hoping you could help me find some water.”

Her mouth twitched, apparently trying to remain still, but she lost her composure and she gave a small laugh. “Well, it looks like you already found some.”

“What?” The unexpected response made him falter a bit, and he patted his back pocket to find his FBI badge, and…

_Oh, shit_. He forgot he was still soaking wet. He felt a blush creep into his face, a bit sheepish. “Ha, yes, well…” He realized as well that his badge had been left back at the bunker in his other pair of jeans. This entire hunt was beginning to get on his nerves. He racked his brain for some other backstory. “You see, I live in the new development a few miles down the road off of Verdant, and I was digging in the backyard when I must have hit some ground water? I was hoping you couldn’t help me figure out if there is maybe an aquifer that the entire neighborhood is drawing from?”

Her countenance brightened, and Dean noted, not for the first time since walking in, that she was quite pretty. There was something shy in her demeanor as well that indicated to him that perhaps she wasn’t aware of the impression she made on others. “Oh! Then we must be neighbors! I just moved into a house there, myself.” She stood up and put out her hand. “I’m Hannah.”

Dean smiled again, genuinely pleased, but mentally kicking himself a little. _Just great, now I have to point out my house where I don’t live._

“I’m, uh, I’m Dean Winchester.”

_And why am I giving out my real name? What’s wrong with me?_

He leaned in, shaking her hand cordially, finding her hand warm and soft, delicate compared to his own hand, calloused and work-weary. He reached up and lay ahold of her elbow without thinking, subconsciously pulling her in…

“ _Boof!”_

A quiet warning sounded out from underneath the desk.

“What the…?” Dean released his grip and jumped backwards, his hunter instincts kicking in and his fingers automatically twitching in the direction of his concealed firearm.

Hannah startled as well, just as much by his reaction than the actual noise. “Oh!” She looked down by her feet. “Jensen!” She chided. She turned back to Dean apologetically. “Sorry, that’s my dog.”

“What?” He repeated and watched as brown eyes and a pair of fluffy, pert ears came around the corner, followed by a set of short legs and a stump of a tail. Well, he assumed there was a stump because the butt was trying desperately to wag. “A corgi?”

“Yes! His name is Jensen. He likes to come with me to work.”

Ignoring the niggling in the back of his brain that told him that he should _recognize_ that name from somewhere, Dean got down on one knee and gave the smiling dog a hearty scratch behind his impossibly velvety ears. “Hey, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

There was another _boof_ in reply and Dean chuckled, finding himself rubbing the dog’s belly when flopped over on the floor.

A pair of red heels came into view and Dean looked up to see that Hannah had come out from behind her desk. She was wearing a full-skirted white dress that cut off at her knees. The little red cherries in its pattern was matched with a red cardigan and gold bangles on her wrist that chimed when they banged together. Along with her outfit and a confidence in her posture, the aura she exuded reminded Dean of the 1950s pinups that used to be tacked up in Bobby’s garage.

_What had I come in here for, again?_

It was at this point that he realized that he was still on his knees and his face was level with the bottom of her skirt. He stood up hastily, feeling like the burning in his face was acutely visible, but she didn’t seem to notice.  She pointed her thumb toward the back of the building. “I have a recent map of groundwater sources for this area. I’m pretty sure it’s in the backroom, if you want to just keep Jensen company for a moment?”

Dean just nodded dumbly, and she flashed a bright smile at him.

“I’ll be right back.” And she jingled away to the back room.

Jensen nudged Dean’s leg and sat heavily against him, throwing him slightly off balance. Shaking his head to clear his clouded thoughts, he pulled the cell phone out of his back pocket. There was one unread text message.

_Did you find the water source? – Sam_

He tapped out a reply.

_Working on it._

He shoved the phone back in his pocket as Hannah came out from the back room, holding a long cardboard tube containing several large maps.

“So…” She said conversationally, pulling out one of the scrolled pieces of paper and unrolling it for him. She pointed at a tinted area of the map on Verdant road. “Our entire development is being fed by the Upland aquifer. This document here says the pump was installed only a couple years ago when housing started being built.”

Dean pointed at a large red dot in the middle of the aquifer. “Is this the pump?” She nodded. “And the developers… did they discover this water? Who was on this piece of land before the developers got a hold of it?”

Hannah hummed in thought. “I don’t think they were ones who found the aquifer originally.” She indicated an area a short distance away from the pump. “But there used to be a farmhouse located several hundred feet from there. It’s leveled now, but it would have been pretty close to my house on Oakwood. They would have had a well. The house was pretty old when they knocked it down.”

_Bingo._ “That’s perfect.” Dean commented.

“Excuse me?” Hannah looked over at him, confused.

“Oh, no, I mean…” He suddenly realized how close he had gotten to her while leaning over the map. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her, the smell of her apple-scented perfume pervading his nose. It was terribly distracting. He cleared his throat, trying to return to the reason why he was there in the first place. “Could… you, uh… could you show me where the house was? I’d like to see if I can’t find that old well for myself.”

“Oh?” He could tell she was having trouble trying to connect his reasoning. “I thought you were just worried about the groundwater on your lot? Why would you need to find the well?”

Dean felt off his game. His normal ability to swing a story in whatever direction he wanted seemed to have disappeared the moment he stepped into the store. Hell, he had worked plenty of jobs where there were plenty of womanly distractions at hand, and the distinction between business and pleasure was something he had always been acutely aware of. He had to be honest with himself, though, that this woman was disarming him completely with her pretty smile and her unreserved nature. It was magnetic. Rather than trying to disentangle himself, he decided, just this once, that maybe he could get his work done _and_ indulge himself at the same time. Have his pie and eat it, too.

“Well, just think of it…” He leaned on the table, tilting towards her. She turned to face him and flushed when he flashed her his trademark Winchester grin. “A creepy old house? Some abandoned, buried well? Doesn’t that sound like some thrilling stuff? What if it’s like, filled with spooks or something?” He laughed at himself, playing it off like it was all some sort of joke. “Aren’t you curious?”

It looked like maybe it was working. “Well…” She said undecidedly.

_Oh god, she’s biting her lip_. Determined to not be sidetracked, Dean pressed further. “What do you say, huh? Go on an adventure with me? Have a little dinner?”

Oh, she was definitely red now. “Okay!” Her reply seemed to come out just a little too quickly, and Dean mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done. “I’ll just close up the shop early, and um, we can meet over at my house. It’s 713 Oakwood Lane.” She was a flurry of motion, grabbing her keys, digging a leash out of her purse to attach to Jensen’s collar, grabbing up the papers. “We can take these maps with us, and oh!”

“Oh?” Dean asked amusedly.

“I have wine! Red wine, if that’s what you want, or I can stop by the store and grab something else up, if you prefer white or maybe bee…”

Dean laughed, interrupting her. “Red is fine. I’ll, uh, meet you out there in about half an hour, yeah?”

Hannah was a bundle of energy. “Yes! Yes, I’ll see you then.” She turned toward the back room but then turned back quite suddenly. “Wait, do you want my cell number?”

“Yes, please,” he answered, opening up his contacts and handing the phone over to her so she could input her number. When she handed it back, Dean saw that her name had a little smiley face addition. “Great!” He said and opened the door for her. She followed after him, corgi in tow, and turned to lock up the storefront.

“See you soon!” She chimed, waving as she walked off down the street, and Dean shook his head incredulously. _Damn…_

His brain was still buzzing by the time he reseated himself at the helm of the Impala. He almost didn’t notice the cell going off once again to the tune of Cas’ ringtone.

Sam’s voice was on the other end. “What’s going on, Dean? Did you find what you are looking for?”

Dean chuckled. “You could say I found more than that. Got myself the location of a well _and_ a hot date.”

Sam sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you heard me. I know what you’re already gonna say, so you can lay off. So, if you’ll excuse me,” He punctuated his statement with a turn of his key and the roar of the engine. “I’m off to go buy myself a new, _dry_ shirt.”

 

* * *

 

Dean fidgeted nervously with the cuff of his new shirt. It was a cream flannel with soft undertone of tan plaid stripes. _Should I keep the sleeves down or should I roll them up?_ He pondered. _To hell with it. Girls always dig muscular forearms._ He unsnapped the buttons, rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, shook out a couple jitters, and made his way up to the front porch of 713 Oakwood Lane.

It was a quaint single-story craftsman design; white paint with purple trim and a well-tended flower garden framing the pathway up to the front door. He was about to knock on the front door when it opened on its own, Hannah bounding out excitedly. “There you are! Hey, nice shirt.”

Dean smiled. “You’re looking cute yourself,” he commented. And it was true. She had changed out of her dress, keeping the cardigan and pairing it with a pair of high waisted jeans, white tennis shoes, and a red scarf wrapped around and tied in a bow on the top of her head. “You ready for an adventure?” He asked.

“You bet!” She enthused. I’ll show you where the well was, at least where I think it was.”

“Great,” he said, leading her back to the Impala and opening the door to the backseat, grabbing out a pair of shovels and a flashlight. He surreptitiously checked his back pocket for his revolver, then turned back to Hannah to hand one of the shovels to her.

She looked at the shovel with surprise. “Wait, you want to actually dig down and find the opening?”

Dean shrugged cheekily. “Well, yeah. How else are we supposed to check to see if something’s _afoot_?”

She laughed at him, still under the pretense that their whole field trip was some sort of gag. “Well, then. I clearly wore the wrong shoes. And I should have perhaps brought a container of salt.”

It was Dean’s turn to laugh at the accuracy of her statement. “Lemme guess… fan of GhostFacers?”

She stuck out her tongue out at him briefly. “Watched every episode. They’re hilarious, anyway, even if it’s all staged.”

Dean thought back to his troublesome encounters with those idiots, the times they almost botched an entire case. “Yeah, hilarious.” He threw his shovel over his shoulder. “Well then,” He feigned a slight bow, gesturing open handedly in a random direction. “Lead the way.”

“Right! It should be over this way.” Hannah pointed to her left and they took off side by side down the lane, heading off toward a cul-de-sac a couple of blocks down the way.

The houses were charming but practically identical, varying only slightly in window placement and trim design. All of them were crammed together, leaving very little side yard. One could practically reach out a bedroom window and slap their next-door neighbor. Dean had seen many developments like this in the sprawling new edges of suburbia. Some big-name company snapping up what precious residential zoning there was left on the outskirts and selling as many cookie cutter houses they could parcel out. If he hadn’t been keeping track of the street signs and address numbers, he would have been lost already.

Hannah indicated a grass clearing that was flanked on all sides by the backyards of houses. “There’s a dry detention basin that has been installed back there to manage stormwater. I’m pretty sure the well was in that area. We’ll have to clear the fence to get back there.”

Dean looked over at her. “A little ol’ fence won’t stop us, will it?”

She scrunched up her face. “Nah.” She pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan.

She snuck between the windows of two cramped houses, making sure the coast was clear before Dean took the two shovels and tossed them over the fence. The flashlight was tucked into his back pocket, and together they scaled the chain-link fence with the _No Trespassing_ sign zip tied to the front.

Hannah jumped down on the other side gracefully, catching her footing easily and correcting the locks of blonde hair that escaped the confines of her scarf. Dean followed soon after, making a considerable larger _thud._

The detention basin was lined with river rock, the perimeter planted with tall grass and willowy young birches that swayed in the evening breeze. “So, let’s say we circle the perimeter and spiral our way to the center,” Dean suggested as he handed Hannah back her shovel. He looked at the horizon, observing the placement of the sun. “We probably have another couple hours or so until the sun starts setting.”

“Right,” Hannah nodded in agreement, determination written on her face.

_Damn, does she even know how cute she is with that expression on her face… Focus, dude. Find the mermaid, get all twitterpated later_. Clearing his throat, Dean set to his task. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The grass was tall, obscuring the ground, but after a half hour of wading through it and double-checking, a sudden “I found it!” from across the field had Dean running in the direction of Hannah’s voice.

_Thunk!_

Hannah was hitting a spot on the ground with the spade of her shovel. The metallic clang indicated it had come in contact with something rather solid. “I almost didn’t see it.” She said when he approached. “There’s a bunch of leaves and stuff over it and I practically tripped over it.”

Dean bent down and brushed off as much of the foliage as he could. “This is concrete. I wonder if they filled the entire well up.”

“I wouldn’t think so. The well would be pretty deep, and it would take an awful lot of concrete. Knowing this development, they probably cut corners and probably just capped off the top to keep people from accidentally falling in there.”

Dean took his shovel and found the perimeter of the concrete, sinking it into the soft dirt. “So, let’s see how deep this concrete goes, then, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

It turned out that the concrete went down about two feet, and freeing up the land around it order to move the concrete out of the way even a fraction ended up taking way longer than Dean anticipated. He was pretty impressed with the pace that Hannah was keeping with him, working alongside him in companionable silence. He was just finding more and more ways to be impressed by her.

It was dark by the time they were finally ready to get the concrete disc removed. “You ready?” He was bent at the knees, ready to bear most of the weight.

Hannah adjusted her grip, matching his stance, standing opposite of him. “Ready.”

“Right, so we’ll lift this thing and try to get it off to the right as far as we can. Just watch your feet. Don’t want you falling in.”

“Got it.”

“And… _heave!”_

The block was impossibly heavy, but they managed to clear the entrance to the well by a good foot before they both let the concrete drop to the side.

The hole was an inky black, an end to it indiscernible. Dean switched his flashlight to high-beam and shone it down the shaft, seeing the old, mildewed cobblestone lining the walls all the way to the water line sitting another forty feet down. The water reflected the light on its still surface.

He kicked some concrete into the expanse, watching as it bounced off the walls before creating a rippled _plonk_. “Welp, better go back to the Impala and get some tools and a rope.”

Hannah looked up from the well in shock. “You’re going to try to go down there?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. No point in digging out an old well if you don’t get to check it out. Otherwise, what was all that work for?”

Hannah looked around as if searching for Dean’s last bit of sanity. She had to settle with throwing one hand on her hip. “Look, I’ve been humoring you with this well hunt today. Yeah, hey, let’s dig up a well for the hell of it. But it’s nighttime now, and you’re talking about climbing down into that pitch black like it’s no big deal!”

Dean was amused at her expression of exasperation. “It isn’t. I get myself into bigger trouble than this on the regular.”

“Well I don’t! Why don’t we just wait until tomorrow morning when there’s better light? Besides, I’ve got wine at home. And it’s not going to drink itself!”

He had to grin at her insistence, flustered and covered with dirt. She was right. No sense being stupid and diving into darkness when there were more important shenanigans to be getting up to that night. He leaned down and snapped up both of the shovels with one hand. He clicked off the flashlight and shoved it back in his back pocket, freeing his other hand to reach out and seek out Hannah’s. He felt her warm fingers respond and grip him tight. His eyes adjusted and could see her blue features in the moonlight.

“Right. Let’s go find that wine.”

 

* * *

 

Dean found himself standing in a kitchen covered wall to wall with chickens, Jensen the corgi sitting on his feet, this time now wearing a little green bowtie.

Hannah was in her room changing out of her dirty clothes. Meanwhile, he was fiddling with the corkscrew, feeling a little out of place in such a cozy little getup. His mom had collected ducks in her kitchen when he was little. Ducks with blue bows.  It all just felt so domestic, so…nice, that he couldn’t possibly see how he could fit into something good and normal like this.

But then Hannah appeared from the hallway, wearing leggings and a soft, loose shirt that hung off one shoulder, and he forgot that he was feeling awkward in the first place. “There you are.”

She must have noticed his stargazed demeanor, because she smiled demurely and walked past him to a cupboard to grab out two wine glasses. She handed the first and then the second to him as he poured the decorked merlot. He felt like a lost puppy as he obediently followed her over to the couch, handing her glass to her once she settled. He found a seat next to her; far enough away to respect her space, but close enough that if she was open to it, he could close the gap easily.

She took a sip of her wine, savoring it for a second before turning to him, a soft smile on her face. “So, Dean Winchester, tell me about yourself. How long have you been here?”

Dean was about to answer when thirty pounds of hair and personality jumped up and settled itself happily on his lap. He stabilized his wine glass before reaching down and patting Jensen on the head. “Looks like I made a friend,” he commented, and Hannah giggled. “But, yeah, I moved into this neighborhood recently.” _Like today,_ he thought wryly. “I’m originally from Kansas.”

“Well, that’s where my dad is from!” Hannah sat up a bit straighter.

“No kidding? My whole family is from there.”

“Do you have a lot of family?”

“Not really. It’s just been my brother Sammy and me. And mom, but she was gone for most of my life. I still don’t feel like I really know her yet.” He mused, drinking some of his own merlot. “But I’ve got friends, and my friends are my family.” He wasn’t entirely certain why he was opening up to Hannah, but what he said was right. Dean had been collecting and piecing together a family for himself for most of his life, desperate for connection and ready to defend with his life anyone he had adopted as one of his own. Cas, Charlie, Jack… Brother, sister, son… “Well, what about you? You mentioned your dad. Are you close with your family?”

She nodded, absentmindedly stroking Jensen’s ears. “I work for my brother-in-law, if that answers your question. A lot of my family lives nearby, too. And we do a lot of stuff together. Holidays, birthdays, you name it. There’s always a reason for a party and lots of food. I mean, as if you need an excuse for food!” She smiled at her own joke, lighting up when Dean laughed.

 “That sounds wonderful. I wish I had more of that in my life.”

“Which one? Family? Parties? Food?”

“Third one.”

Hannah laughed.

“Seriously, though.” Dean looked pointedly at her. “If there’s dessert, especially pie, you better make sure there’s one whole one set aside for me. I don’t share.”

“I’ll make a note of it. What’s your favorite flavor of pie?”

“Probably a tie between apple and blueberry.”

Hannah hummed into her glass, her cheeks pink from the combination of wine and merriment. “Next question.” She freed her hands and set her goblet on the coffee table. “Are you going to tell me why you’re _actually_ interested in this well? Because it isn’t about groundwater, is it? And it’s not some cutesy dare to get me out on a date, either.”

Dean shrugged. He didn’t know whether to tell her the full truth. He had been teasing her with it all day and she was taking it in stride. It’s not like it would hurt anything to tell her; she had already helped him find the well. He was only sticking around because he found her fascinating. Might as well. If she was cool with it, all the better. “You want to know?”

She nodded.

“I wasn’t joking before. I’m a hunter. I hunt things. Monsters, vampires, demons… and I’m pretty certain there’s some sort of siren that’s hurting people in this neighborhood. That’s why I’m trying to find the water source.”

The smile fell off of Hannah’s face. “You’re just pulling my leg because I told you I liked GhostFacers.”

“I’m not. A guy a few blocks down the street was drowned in his bed.”

She shook her head. “Mr. Snyder? No, no, he had a heart attack. That’s what his sister said.”

“That’s not what the autopsy says.”

Hannah didn’t respond at first. She just stared blankly at him, trying to make sense of what he had just told him. After a long, awkward pause, she finally wiped at her face, and when she recovered, she had a smirk. “Fine, then. Keep your secrets. I’ll figure it out what you’re up to eventually. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Dean sighed. Well, so much for telling her the trut… “Wait, you think I’m cute?”

 Her eyes went wide, and her complexion turned a deep red in a split-second. “Yeah, I mean…” She stammered.

Dean leaned forward, unable to resist the look on her face. As he closed in, her eyelids fluttered shut, her body stilling. He could smell the wine on her breath. He wondered what it tasted like on her lips…

_Woof!_ A cold, wet dog nose wedged itself between the two of them.

“Jensen!” She chided, flustered from having the moment interrupted. She pulled the dog back down into her own lap. “Maybe Jensen is telling us that it’s getting late. Perhaps we should get some sleep and continue this in the morning?”

Dean was still wiping at his face. “I agree.” The moment was ruined anyway. “I’ll give you a call in the morning.” He stood up, grabbing up the glasses and taking them back to the kitchen, setting them in a sink under the watchful eye of a large ceramic rooster. “You, uh, don’t happen to know a good motel in the area, do you?”

“I thought you said you lived in the development.”

“So, I did… Um, I’m renovating?” _Nice recovery, Dean._

She didn’t seem to give it much of a second thought and blew it off. “There’s no need to stay at a motel. If you don’t mind the couch, I can grab some quilts?”

He released a breath he was holding. “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.”

 

* * *

It felt weird, being in someone’s living room like this, tucked in and welcome as a house guest. The temperature wasn’t frigid because of a busted air conditioning unit. There wasn’t a shouting match muffled and seeping through the walls. This couch was much cozier than a motel room mattress with a hole in the middle. It was… nice.

Which was precisely why Dean Winchester couldn’t fall asleep. The domestic bliss was more than he could handle. Not that he didn’t enjoy every damned second of it, but it made him miserable thinking that it was only temporary. It was back on the road again after the case was solved. Ignorance was truly bliss.

He lied there, gazing up at the ceiling, making out patterns in the mottled spackle, when something disturbed the dark silence.

What first sounded like a trickle of water became a rushing, moving away down the hallway, congregating toward a growing blue light.

Dean got up immediately, shoeless feet hitting the carpet and increasing speed.

The light, ever-moving, morphed and took shape, the siren floating through the door. A dark water stain bloomed on the wood, and as he approached, he felt the cold bite to the air that he didn’t notice that morning. Something clicked. _Damned ghost_. _Knew I should have fixed that EMF reader when I had the chance…_

A stifled scream emerged from the other side of the door, and Dean’s brain switched into full-hunter mode. _Hannah…_

Trying the handle, it was locked. He braced himself, took one large heave, and kicked the door off its hinges, pulling out his iron switch blade out of his pocket.

He came upon a harrowing sight; the siren had completely engulfed Hannah’s entire body in her bed, its arms and tail snaking around, tightening… Through the distortion of the water, he could see Hannah’s eyes wide, arms pinned to her sides and struggling futilely. She had been attempting to hold her breath, but as the siren shifted and pressed, he could see the last little bubbles leaving her, eyes rolling back…

“Hey!” He shouted, and as he hoped, the siren reacted, spinning around to face him, exposing Hannah to the air once more. She gasped and choked, bending over the side of the bed to dispel the water she had inhaled.

Staring down the phantasm, Dean could see now that its face was indeed one of one of those angelic mermaids turned ugly and distorted by ghostly blind hatred. The tendrils of its watery mane flicked menacingly. “You remember me, you son of a bitch? Should have finished the job.”

He barely finished his taunt before it charged at him, but instead of passing through him like before, taking him off guard, he punched through it with the blade as it approached. The contact immediately dispelled the shape, putrid water crashing to the floor, soaking the carpet.

Dean barely registered the ghost’s disappearance before he was at Hannah’s side, helping her sit up. “Are you alright?”

Her coughing had subsided, but she was completely drenched, her clothes and hair plastered against her figure. Rivulets were running down and pooling on her sodden mattress. “I... I… that was…!”

Dean was checking her for further injury, pushing locks of hair out of her face, fingers lingering on her jaw. “You’re safe now. It’s gone for now.”

“But you weren’t lying! GhostFacers is real! That was... that was… oh my gosh, I almost died!” She fell silent, and as she made eye contact with him, a shiver came over her.

Her blue eyes were so close, and he became aware that not only had his hands betrayed him and were now cupping her face, but that he was shivering as well, overwhelmed with a realization. “This is my fault. I got you involved, and if anything had happened to you, I would have never…”

And suddenly he was kissing her, hungrily, desperately, as if he would never get the chance again. She responded enthusiastically, her arms encircling his broad shoulders.

Her lips were warm and yielding, irresistible, and when he peeked out his tongue, yearning for a taste of her, she opened for him, sighing softly in a way that sent him into overdrive. He pressed into her, taken over by an urge to feel her against every inch of his body.

He barely registered the wetness of her clothes seeping into his own, but as they descended down onto the mattress, they found themselves falling into a collected puddle of sulphuric water. The mood was immediately broken by sputtering, followed by Hannah laughing nervously at the ridiculous situation they had found themselves in.

Dean shook his head, clearing himself of the spell he had fallen under. He pushed himself back up, giving a hand to her to help her sit up once more, when he heard his ringtone sounding in the living room where he abandoned it.

“Ah, that’ll be my brother. I’ll be right back.”

Hannah looked down at her soaked state. “I think I need to get cleaned up, anyway. You go ahead.”

Dean took his leave hastily before he acted on his urge to ignore his cellphone and follow her into the bathroom.

The call had since gone to voicemail. He picked his phone up off the coffee table and hit redial, putting it on speaker. “Sammy.”

“Dean, hey. You alright?”

Initially confused, Dean realized that he was still breathing heavily, adrenaline running through his veins. “Yeah, I just had another run in with this siren. And it’s not a siren. It’s a ghost.”

“Told you that you should have fixed the EMF reader.”

“Shut up.”

Sam’s voice was smug as he continued. “So, it makes sense when you say it’s a ghost. Earlier you told me there was an old house and well on the property, so I looked it up. Last known resident on that property was a woman by the name of Gladys Hampton. Late 80s. She lived alone there until her death about two years ago. Says she died on property of old age. No will was found, so the property was liquidated and sold to the development company within months of her death.”

Dean scoffed. “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“No surviving family member was found to claim the property, either. But here’s the thing. She _did_ have one surviving family member. A granddaughter. She was attending college in Montana when she was reported _missing_ within a week of her grandmother’s death.”

The cogs in Dean’s head started turning. “The only two family members who had claim to a property that developers wanted desperately? Not a coincidence.”

“Oh, god.” Said a quiet voice behind him, and he turned to see Hannah standing in the entrance to the hallway. She had changed clothes, wet hair wrapped up in a towel, and had obviously been listening in for a while “You’re saying an old woman was in that house?”

“Who’s that?” came Sam’s voice.

Dean ignored him, addressing Hannah. “Do you know something about her?”

She shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple. “No, I don’t know… but, when that thing tried to drown me, I was just about to lose consciousness, and… I saw something. It wasn’t like my life flashing before my eyes, but it’s like I remembered something. Something that didn’t belong to me. There was a man, standing over a bed with a pillow, and… oh, god…” Hannah’s face contorted with fear. “What did you do to her?!” She screamed in a voice that wasn’t entirely her own.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Are you okay?”

Hannah leaned against the wall, visibly shaken. “I… I think so. What was that?”

“You must have gleaned a memory from the ghost when it made contact with you.” An idea lit up his features. “The granddaughter. Sammy!” He turned his attention back to the forgotten phone in his hand. “She didn’t disappear. She was _here_. She’s the ghost, and she saw something she wasn’t supposed to.”

Sam could be heard clicking away on his laptop. “She must have made a surprise visit to her grandmother, which would explain why the school declared her missing. No one knew she was coming there. And those developers were clearly not expecting any witnesses…”

“So, one murder turned into two.” Dean provided. “And two guesses where they dumped that girl’s body… which would explain which she’s appeared as a water specter.”

“But that _doesn’t_ explain why she’s appearing like a mermaid.”

“I’m willing to bet the answer is at the bottom of that well.” A soft hand came up and rested on his shoulder, Hannah leaning in and invested in this conversation. Dean gave her a smile. “I’ll, I mean _we’ll_ get on it and I’ll give you a call Sammy. Tell Cas I said hi. And to stay out of my room.” He ended the call without a goodbye and turned to Hannah, who now seemed excited. “Now you see why I want down into that well?”

She nodded. “I have a pump that I can bring from work, if you’re looking for her remains. If we can siphon the water at a rate faster than the aquifer can refill it, we should be able to drain it at least temporarily. But then what?”

“You’re the GhostFacers expert. You tell me.”

“Salt and burn the remains.” She said automatically.

“There you go.”

She bounced on her toes enthusiastically. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this is happening! A real live ghost! This is so cool! And it almost _killed_ me!”

“Don’t remind me,” Dean said in a low voice, cupping her face and appreciating the way she was glowing in that moment. “But I would like a reminder, when this is all over, to pick up where we left off a few minutes ago.”

Hannah’s face was flushed. “Will do,” she said breathlessly.

 

* * *

 

By the time they had gathered the equipment they needed, the first slivers of dawn were peaking over the eastern mountains. A much-needed coffee break was in order, and as they sat there in the Starbucks, they discussed their game plan and waited for the full day to break.

“It was a good idea to use your company truck, I’ll admit,” Dean said, sipping his black brew. “We can drive straight up to the service gate of the detention basin in broad daylight and none of the neighbors would suspect a thing. Why wouldn’t a water company be inspecting it?”

“Thank you,” Hannah smiled. “I _am_ really clever, aren’t I?” She had already finished her vanilla latte and was fiddling with the lid. “And Jensen can help keep an eye out and warn us if he senses the ghost.” She looked out the store window. As if he knew they were talking about him, Jensen’s head popped up from the bottom of the truck bed, head tilted in curiosity. “Poor Jensen. He wasn’t able to help his mama last night. That’s the last time I keep him in the garage. From now on, he’s at the foot of my bed every night.”

“Lucky boy,” Dean commented, enjoying watching Hannah duck her head and try to hide her wide smile. He reached across the table and took one of her hands and held it. “Listen, I’m going to be rappelling down into the well, and while you’re monitoring the pump, I want you to be on guard. This ghost isn’t going to be appreciating us invading its domain. It’s not going to hesitate to attack either one of us. So, I want you to take this,” Dean reached under the neck of his t-shirt and pulled a necklace over his head, a small hand-hewn iron cross on a leather string. “I want you to wear this. I know I already gave you the iron crowbar, but if it somehow ends up out of your hands, this should help keep you from almost drowning… again.”

She took it from his open hand and admired it before slipping over her own head. “Thank you, but what about you? Don’t you need it?”

Dean took her in, caught in silence by sheer wonderment. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

A blush again. “Why’s that?”

“I met you yesterday, and not only do you sign on for adventure with me like it’s no big thing, and you find out ghosts are real by being _attacked_ by one, but now you’re on board to the end, even though I just told you that you’ll be in danger’s path _again_. It’s just… not a lot of ordinary people are up to that, you know?”

Hannah smiled, pleased at the compliment. “Well maybe I’m _not_ ordinary.”

“No, you’re most definitely not.”

A pause bloomed, more words floating upspoken between the both of them.

“I…”

“I…”

They spoke at once, but Dean yielded, allowing Hannah to speak first.

She cleared her throat and continued. “Look, Dean. I really like you. Not just because this is the most excitement I’ve had in my life, like, _ever,_ but there’s just something about you. I know you don’t really live here, but… won’t you stay? See where this goes?”

Dean closed his eyes briefly, pushing down the deep desire that he had to settle, have a house, have a wife… to be normal… “I would absolutely love to, darlin’. There’s nothing I want more than to explore this.”

Hannah’s face lit up, and it absolutely killed him to say what he had to say next. “But I can’t. I tried to settle once before, and… it didn’t end well for them. And it was all my fault. You can’t just stop being a hunter. Eventually you become the hunted.” He swallowed thickly, pushing away memories of Lisa and Ben. “As much as I want to, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

She appeared crestfallen, one hand reaching up to finger the cross that now hung at her neck. “Well then, how about this?” She laid out a suggestion. “You go, do your hunting thing, and come when you can? You’ll always have a home here, and I’ll always have a whole pie waiting for you.”

Dean leaned forward. “Sounds pretty tempting. That still doesn’t keep you out of harm’s way. Monsters have a habit of sniffing out the people I love.”

She leaned forward to match him, face inches apart from his. “Then take me with you. You can’t protect me if I don’t want to be protected. Besides, you seem like the kind of guy that’s worth the risk.” She didn’t budge, daring him to disagree with her.

He shook his head, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I’m out of arguments, and I’m not coming up with any more because I’m just too damn selfish. I can’t pass up the promise of fresh pie on demand.”

She grinned. “Just one condition: Jensen’s coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t ask you to leave him, anyway.” He gathered up their two empty cups, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Just so you know; I’m pretty certain Castiel can speak to dogs.”

She took his proffered arm and popped up quickly. “Oh boy! This is getting better and better!”

He led the way out the door. “Let’s get this pesky ghost out of the way first, then, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s!”

 

* * *

 

It only took a quick snip with a heavy bolt cutter to break the chain on the service gate, and Hannah backed the truck into the detention basin. Together they were able to move the concrete disc off of the well’s opening, and Hannah unrolled the hose and fed it down the hole, hooking it up to the pump and aiming the output into the basin. A couple pulls of the chain on the motor and it sputtered to life, emitting periodic puffs of diesel smoke into the air.

It took a good twenty minutes for the water to start pouring out at a decent pace, the levels in the well steadily starting to decline. Dean set to work looping and tying two ropes to cleats fixed to the back of the truck. “We’re about ready.” He called out, giving his knots a final tug. “Do we have all the supplies on hand?”

Hannah was letting Jensen out the cab, and he immediately set his nose low on the ground, sniffing out the disturbed earth around the exposed well. “Yeah, I think we have everything.”

“Salt and gasoline?”

“Check and check. Got them in the bucket.”

“Your crowbar?”

She grabbed it out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Check. You have your flashlight and your switchblade?”

“Check and check, darlin’.” He set to tying a plastic bucket to end of one of the ropes and slipping on a rappelling harness and attaching it to the other. “Now, when I get down there, if I find the remains, I’m gotta get to work on burning ‘em. I can’t stop what I’m doing till it’s done. No matter what is happening to me, don’t pull me up, got it?”

She set her jaw resolutely. “Got it.”

The pump’s engine changed pitch, and soon the sound of water decreased from a rush to a trickle. “That’s my cue.” Dean said, pulling tight the strap on his waist. “C’mere.” He held out his arms to Hannah and she gladly folded into him, burying her face in his neck. He turned and kissed her temple. “Good luck.”

“Be careful.”

“Always am.”

She backed out of his embrace. “Jensen! Heel!” The corgi bounded to her side, seeming to understand the gravity of the situation, stance on guard.

Dean positioned himself on the edge of the well, looking down into the dark pit. He tested his rope, making sure it was taut. “Here goes.”

He made a small jump and descended, feet making contact with slick cobblestone. Within a few meters, the sun could no longer light his way, and he continued on, blind.

To his estimate, it was another 30 feet and his boots scraped the edge of the bottom, and he found himself standing on a solid floor of stone. He fumbled for his flashlight and flipped it on, taking in the deep layer of silt that had accumulated, but it wasn’t deep enough to bury the stark white that glowed under his bulb. Two empty sockets of a skull peeked back at him. “Found her!” He shouted up, his voice reverberating off the walls. “Lower the bucket!”

“Got it!” Was her distant reply.

There was a scraping and within a minute the bucket emerged out of the shadows, dangling above his head, just out of his reach. It stopped. “A little bit more!” he shouted.

A barking erupted and echoed down to him. The bucket dropped, barely missing Dean’s head and hitting the ground hard and toppling. “She’s here!” Hannah screamed.

“Hannah! Fight her off! I’ll finish this!” Dean frantically shoved the flashlight in his mouth, freeing his hands to gather up the salt and gasoline. Seeing that the skull had detached from the rest of the skeleton, he kicked it over to join the body. He popped open the container of salt with the flip of a finger and started covering every exposed inch, tossing it when it ran out. He switched to the gasoline. Uncapped, the fumes quickly overwhelmed the small space and he immediately felt a wave of dizziness. He dumped the liquid generously, watching it soak into the silt. “A’wight!” He shouted with a mouth full of flashlight. He grabbed up the tail of his rope, hearing the sounds of struggle above his head. He braced his feet and started climbing back up the well, stopping several feet above the bottom. He set his harness on brake and freed up his hands again. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his stick matches. He used two for good measure, and, lighting them against the side of the box, he dropped them down the shaft. They met their target and the remains burst into flame, the hot wind of it hitting Dean in the face. He watched it a couple seconds before being satisfied, switching off his flashlight, no longer in need of it. “Hannah! Are you okay? It should be gone now!”

Over the sound of the fire crackle, he realized with dismay that the barking had not ceased. Hannah’s voice bounced down. “She’s still here!”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “ _Shit_!” There was something that he missed. He had no idea what it was, and it could be anywhere. “Hannah! I’m coming up!” He gripped the rope and started the long climb.

He stopped short after only a couple feet.

Within arm’s reach, one of the misshapen cobblestones jutted out farther than all the others, creating an unintentional shelf. The fire’s glow from below was reflected by something caught there, the orange glint flashing and fading. Dean leaned, grabbing ahold, and his fingers came in contact with something small and metallic. He grasped it, bringing it into better view. It was a necklace. A delicate, tarnished silver chain was snapped. It must have caught when the poor girl was on her way down. There was a charm, just barely hanging, and he laid it out in the palm of his hand…

…It was a mermaid. Lovely once, corroded now beyond its original glory, very much like the water specter currently lashing out in blind anger above him, unable to avenge its death or the greedy murder of her poor grandmother.

The fight continued above him, and without a second thought, he looked below, the fueled fire raging on, consuming everything on the floor. He dangled the chain, aiming carefully, then let it go. Its contact with the ground was immediately met with an echoed shriek, the unrestful spirit being consumed from the inside out. Dean said a quick prayer for the soul about to cross over, and then steeled himself for the climb back to the surface. Hannah just had the fight of her life and he couldn’t waste one more second in this godforsaken abyss.

 

* * *

 

As suspected, Hannah was completely soaked through by the time he got to the top, but otherwise fine and pumped that she had faced another encounter with a ghost and survived.

Like she promised, she took him back to her house to clean up and… pick up where they left off.

Dean didn’t hold back, showing her how grateful he was that she was in one piece and in his arms. She had proved to be more capable and braver than he could have ever imagined, and with Hannah set to follow him wherever he went, his _future_ looked even brighter than he could have ever imagined.

And full of pie. Let’s not forget the pie.

He was so wrapped up in his newfound heaven that he had completely forgotten to keep Sammy in the loop, and he was reminded when they were already in the Impala, packed and heading out of that damned town.

Dean put the call on speakerphone. “Sammy!”

“Wow, Dean, you sound awfully cheerful. You must have dealt with the ghost, then.”

“Check this, Sammy. She was appearing as a mermaid because her soul was tethered to a necklace with a mermaid charm. Found it in the well with her remains.”

“That’s a new one.”

“Tell me about it. But I’m glad that it was only a ghost, after all. Can’t imagine what I would have done if it was an actual siren.”

“Only a ghost?!” Dean looked over at the passenger seat, where Hannah was seated quite comfortably. She was looking beautiful, immaculate in another signature dress, a 1950s yellow mod with white polka dots. Her look was completed with a towering blonde beehive, her cherry red lips smirking at him as she pulled her sunglasses down her nose to look at him better. “Excuse me, I almost died _twice!”_

There was a pause on the phone, then a “Dean…?”

Dean pulled a face at the phone, enjoying riling up Sam. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Bringing a house guest. Break out the fine china, if you wouldn’t mind.”

As if to remind Dean that he didn’t want to be forgotten, Jensen sat up in the back seat, his soft face coming up behind Dean’s head, giving his ear an experimental lick. Three things happened simultaneously: Dean let out an unmanly scream of protest, Jensen barked in response, and the Impala took a small dip off the road.

“Dean, what was that?”

“Uh, I’m bringing _two_ house guests?”

“Dea…” He was cut off as Dean ended the call, leaving Sam on the end wondering what had gotten into his big brother.

Dean looked over at Hannah, the setting sun illuminating her with a golden halo, and everything just felt… perfect. His spare hand reached over and grabbed hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Let’s go home,” he said gleefully, bringing her hand up and pressing it to his lips in a kiss.

Her smile was completely genuine. “Yes, let’s.”

_Lick_.

“Gah! Jensen, if you make me crash my baby…!”

Hannah laughed.

  


End file.
